Wolf Heart
by angelofdeath1119
Summary: -ON HIATUS!- 'Moonlight passes through the soft curtain of the clouds from the dark sky. The day has come. And they will retrieve themselves.' Guardians of the old world come to reclaim their lost territories. Suck at summaries, it didn't even connect.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

"Kiara."

"Dimitri."

Silence ensued between them. The cub that she cradled in her arms rolled around, and showed her its round white belly. She scratched it gently with her index finger.

"Do you think… the time has come?"

Smiling beneath her silver drape of hair, she answered in a soft, silky voice, "'The time of the wolves be the time of the humans, so they reconcile.'" Solemn was her voice, as if she was reciting an ancient prayer. "Do you remember that?"

"Of course I do," he answered. "'The moon will shine on the old world's guardians, and peace will thus drift the seas.'" He paused, wishing his sister would answer the unsaid question. When she didn't, he continued, "But that doesn't answer my question."

Without a word she looked up at the sky, her platinum hair moving away from her face, revealing her pearl-pale face. Her voice even softer than earlier, she whispered, almost only to the wind, "The time… comes when it comes… brother." He just looked at her in acknowledgement. "For now, we'll just have to wait."

He sighed. He never quite understands his sister whenever she speaks in rhymes, riddles. Never does it sound right to him. "Sister…"

"Dimitri, you can stop being persistent," Kiara said, looking back at him with her usual, curly brown hair hanging down her shoulders. Dimitri looked up to see her back to normal, so he stood up from his laying position in the grass. But he kept silent, wishing his sister to continue.

"He is coming."


	2. Hidden Secrets, Hidden Mysteries

**DISCLAIMER: **HxH belongs to Togashi and not me.

* * *

**Chapter One**

**~Hidden Secrets, Hidden Mysteries~**

**

* * *

**

A wolf's heart. It is of strong willpower. It is of courage. It is of determination. It is of strength. It is the core for emotions. It is of equal morality. It can decide on proper choices. It is of wisdom. It is equal justice.

Every person is born with a wolf's heart. It is like the inborn innocence. Both pure and of full heart. It is us who tatters and breaks our wolf's heart. The conscience it brings fades away. But rarely do people actually notice.

Wolf guardians have realized the ebbing belief in the people. They have lost their connection to their brothers. They have lost their ancient powers to modernity. The old world's guardians have forgotten their vows.

They will make sure the humans will not forget. They will remind the humans of cold Siberian nights. Of burning Mongolian summers. The bond, and the togetherness. Of Romulus, Remus, and the she-wolf.

They would take children to be the new-world's wolf guardians. The wolf spirit will enter their souls, pure wolf blood mingling with their own. They will be the bridge of the humans and the wolves. They will be the bridge of the old and of the new.

And they will choose a human purest of wolf-heart—and together they will put the age-old balance back to normal. They will forge a new bond. They will learn to be together. They will be connected by soul once more. And the two will be comrades.

The time will come when it will. They will have to be patient souls. Raised in the ancient ways. The moon will shine when their time has come to be bound once more. Their far-flung fates will cross again. Peace will return to the world, and to humankind.

And the wolves will rise again.

* * *

"Go tend to our sheep, Kurapika," a voice called from inside the hut.

"Yes, father," the boy of twelve answered, standing up from his sitting position outside on the mellow grass. He took his father's shepherding cane, and tapped on the grass as he stared out, deciding where to take the sheep today. _I will take them to the west side of the mountain, _he thought, and called to his shepherd-dog, Vassilus, or Vas.

His shepherd dog was actually more leaning to the ferocious behavior, but nothing really worries the young boy. It was a very, very nice cross breed, with beautiful, thick fur and shining eyes of gold. He was also a big breed, around half of Kurapika's height standing up. Also, never forget the shepherding talent they all possess.

But the magic in it… was Vas was a husky-wolf cross breed.

Oh, Kurapika doesn't know how that happened either. All he knew that first, his family had this husky bitch, a very beautiful one with white fur, that they found littering around the road. Two months later, she had a bellyful of pups. And after the waiting period, she peered out of the den and five bouncing baby pups came after her. They had blue eyes and ashen colored fur, but brighter, more livelier. Kurapika thinks he knows, but he couldn't be sure either. It might have started one night…

Kurapika opened the gate for their sheep, and whistled to his dog to start the lead. It barked joyfully before finally guiding the sheep toward the Western Ounaboura mountain range.

…one night, when Kurapika was outside making the final head count of the sheep after bringing them back to their pen. He heard yelps coming from the forest. He lit a second torch and stretched his hand to light the dark, see what was coming. From the dim recesses, very near the bushes that marked the edge of their field, two dark spots of light reflected the soft, elegant dance of the flames.

It was a pair of eyes, shadowy and taunting, with anger, anticipation, determination. It was putting a ghostly spell on Kurapika. But no, Kurapika did not give in. Instead he locked the pen and took a wary step forward. The wolf held his ground, teeth still bared, fangs red with the sheep's blood. Kurapika took one more step, but the wolf still stoof on the same spot. The air was thick with tension, and Kurapika felt his blood race. His heart beat angrily on his chest. The wolf, meanwhile, just stood there, fur bristling with glistening anger. Blood dripped from his fangs, tainting the grass. Kurapika and the wolf stared at each other eye-to-eye, and Kurapika felt his courage falter. Blue met gold, and quietly, intensively, they stared at each other. The tension created by this was so thick you couldn't cut it with an axe. Kurapika's breathing was labored, filled with panic and desperately calling quietly, 'HELP!'

Suddenly, a blur of grey came toward the wolf, toppling it over. The wolf rolled around with the object for a few feet. Kurapika strained his eyes to see. They widened in shock when he realized it was his family husky, Ulaan. She's eye-catching with white fur and a long black line of fur running across her spine. What's more is that she had been trained with the shepherding business, and she's doing a pretty good job at it. She's also pretty calm when dealing with these wolves that roam around the area, which is actually their free territory. But she knew better than to attack unprovoked.

Kurapika stared speechlessly as Ulaan and the wolf stared at each other. Ulaan stared deep into the wolf's eyes. She was on top of him, intimidating him. The wolf lay on the grass on his back. Kurapika imagined him whimpering in fright – Ulaan had wonderfully sharp fangs of her own.

The wolf crawled out underneath Ulaan's belly, but Ulaan did not leave him unscathed. She took her paw up and scratched the wolf's face, causing a great wound across from his forehead to his muzzle, down his chin. The wolf did not seem to mind, and even though blood oozed from the wound, he stood mightily up, towering over Ulaan who was two inches short to him. They inched nearer to each other, and Kurapika thought they would engage in another serious fight. Instead, they raised noses and howled, a mind-numbing sound in the cold night. It was eerie, echoed by the mountains that covered the valley. When the song ended, the two touched the tips of their nuzzles, and the wolf left, not even taking a bite on the sheep he took down.

Kurapika only then realized he had been holding his breath. He released it in a long puff, and he heard Ulaan whimper to him. He neared the dog and patted it on the head. "Oh, it's dead anyway, Ulaan," he said. "We might as well bring it to father, he may as well offer it up." He took the bloody sheep and dragged it home.

When Kurapika entered the house with the sheep, his father looked at him with wide eyes.

"Kurapika! What is that, my son? Is that one of ours? What has happened?" he asked quickly, not even bothering to give his son time to answer each question separately.

Kurapika laid the sheep on the butchering table in the kitchen. "Father, there was this big wolf that came by the forest," he started to explain. "He had taken this sheep, but left without it, mysteriously. He just had a short but not ferocious confrontation with Ulaan," he said, rubbing the dog's back. "I do not know either, father, but they left peacefully with no war or such."

"Ahh, may the gods be blessed," his father said, fingers caressing Ulaan's nuzzle. Ulaan licked his hand. "Be thankful for your safety, for God's hand has fallen onto her. Aah, she will get pups soon, I believe."

"What makes you think so, father?" Kurapika thought, and laid comfortably on the chair, knowing his father will give in to his story askings. He was getting ready for a long story.

"Oh, no, there is no story," the father said, and Kurapika pouted. "Just a belief that one of these days dog and wolf will reconnect, and so will man."

"A belief, huh?" Kurapika thought. "Might as well. Maybe man will be me, Ulaan be the dog, that wolf be the wolf so told," he said, grinning. "I will just take hot soup for dinner, father, and I shall retire."

"Your mother has cooked a delicious mouthful in the pot," the older man said. "Do as you wish. I shall retire now." Footsteps, and a quiet thud of a door.

Kurapika took his favorite bowl made of a coconut shell rubbed off its skin. He dipped it into the pot, taking some soup. He closed the pan with its cover, and went outside to watch the stars.

The night was chilly, but since Ulaan kept him company, the cold was lessened, if a bit. He sipped on his soup, the heat tingling in his mouth, and stared as the sky remained cold and soulless. Ulaan nudged on his hand, asking for permission. Kurapika patted the dog, and Ulaan went inside the house to sleep.

Kurapika stared at the sky. He had lots to think about tonight, in his vigil. Especially that scarred wolf. And Ulaan. And mysteries. Reconnecting with nature. It bothered him, how there was so much he didn't and couldn't understand yet. He wanted to learn, he wanted to know. So every night, after dinner, he'd creep out of the house to stare and think about everything in the world.

But that night the wolf bothered him… the wolf's strength, courage, and willpower. Is it possible for man to be like that, too? Strong? Courageous? Powerful? _It would be to live back to the old days, _his grandfather used to say, whenever he said wolf stories.

"'Man used to be like wolf, and side-by-side they fought enemies and caught prey,'" he said solemnly, reciting the story his grandfather told him, the story he knew by heart. "'Together man and beast feasted, together man and beast lived. Everything was peaceful, and there were no wars, no fights. Wolves did not take on livestock, and man did not kill the wolf cubs for the fresh pelts. No, there were no wars, everything was tranquil back then.'"

He sighed, wondering how beautiful a world that would've been. "'Yes, the tranquility was addicting. Wolf cubs played with human children, teaching them at a fresh young age to hunt and to play, to run and to catch, how to live the way nature tells them to. No, but today the human children are plagued with modernity, they have forgotten to live peacefully, how it is to live back in paradise. We are in paradise, we just don't believe in it, thus paradise has lost its shine.'"

_Paradise. _"'Yes, earth is a paradise shared by man and beast,'" he continued. "'And they will forever share for all time. But no, no, man had become to greedy. They decided to rule over the place, instead of just being a helpful brother that continues to preserve The Ways. The Ways of nature, the ways of paradise. No, no, the ink of modernity spills over the old parchment dedicated to the wolves, the beavers, the eagles. Modernity tells about man, and man alone. No more beavers, no more eagles. No more life. No more mountains, no more valleys. No more nothing. No more wolves. No more warriors. No more guardians.'"

"'No more light, no more day,'" he continued, voice sounding reverend. "'No more earth. Man, and man alone. No more neighbors. Man, alone. Man, lonely. All because of modernity.'" He remembered how his grandfather would look so sullen whenever he said that.

"'No more spirits, no more guardians. No more wolves."

* * *

"Oi, Naranbataar, it seems like your son had fallen asleep again here, no?"

"Aah, he must've been out again, thinking about the world. Ahh, my son is the thinking type. He is not fit to be in here. He's an intellectual, we must send him to the cities."

_To… the cities…_ Kurapika's eyes popped open, realizing what his father, Naranbataar, and his mother, Narantuyaa, were talking about. His eyes were screaming, 'Not to the city, Not to the city!'

His senses returned, and he was back to the present. He shoved his entire body up from the grass, dusting himself off.

"Aah, the sun has risen to the young boy," Naranbataar said. "Come up, son. The sheep has to be tended to." A piece of bread was handed to him.

"Yes, father," Kurapika said, taking the bread and nibbling on it quickly. He whistled to Vas, almost choking on the bread the stuck on his throat. Vas rubbed his nose to his master's thigh. (Vas, the dog, was that freaking tall.)

"Vas, go, go, go!" He said, pointing at the sheep pen gate. Vas jumped in the air, doing a perfect somersault, and with happy barks ran toward the gate. He had previously learned how to open the gate by pulling on the lock with his teeth, and the sheep poured out. Vas did his job perfectly well, and he lead the sheep to the usual grazing place. _Shepherding will always be easy with Vas around, _Kurapika thought, walking toward Vas to give him a loving pat on the head.

He was in the grazing field again, a quiet, vast land of green below a sky of blue. The colors always made him so _lazy, _so _caught off guard. _He usually ends up spending his entire day dawdling around, mind wandering the world's darkest corners.

That day, his mind lolled about what he would do in the future. _Ahh, I will hunt in the forest good game, _he said. _I will become rich and famous and popular. _He thought of the traps he would make. His horses. Agility and stealth. And the pelts hanging around his cement house's walls, markings of glory. He was slipping into quiet sleep, disappearing, slowly… darkness… creeping up…

"Kurapika-san."

He was awokened from his half daydream slumber by a soft voice. "Ahh, Sarantsartsral-hime-chan."

"Father calls you to the castle," the girl said. She had black locks tied up in two long braids that was kept in a bun in her head. It was designed with a chrysanthemum flower atop, and a veil that ran down to her waist. Her robes were of oriental origin, of red and gold. But of course, no matter how utterly _weird _it looked with her attire, she always wore her wolf pelt jacket. It was a gift from one of those boys in the area.

"Emperor Yujii?" Kurapika asked, a little dazed. "What does he ask of, Hime-chan?"

"He asks of you," Sarantsartsral said. "He has said nothing more. Let us go, Kurapika?" Her voice sounded like she was talking to an old friend, not to some random person her father asked her to bring back to the palace.

Kurapika was a little confused. What would the emperor want from him? Reluctantly he stood up, almost willing to go. Suddenly, he remembered his flock. He turned to say to Sarantsartsral, "But hime-chan, my flock—"

"We have sent our royal herdsmen to take care of that," Sarantsartsral said. "You must go to my father, and now." She handed a leash, pointing at Vas.

"Yes, Hime-chan…" He whistled to Vas, who came bounding up to follow him. He patted the dog and tied the leash that the princess gave him around its neck. Vas was reluctant, but in

the end gave in.

Vas curled up on the floor between them in the carriage, and the horses up front seemed to be going on a slower pace than usual. An awkward silence hung between the two.

Kurapika decided to initiate conversation, knowing the trip would take at least half an hour. "Hime-chan…"

"Please, call me Saran. Sarantsartsral would be too long now, wouldn't it?" Saran smiled.

"Ahh, yes, Hi– Saran." Kurapika looked at Vas. "Saran, do you have a clue on why… your

father…"

"No, I have no clue either," Saran said. "Neither do I have any idea why he sent me and none of his royal messengers."

_Now _Kurapika was intrigued. "You mean, he sent you, and you went not on your own free will?"

"Yes," Saran said. "He said it would 'help the nation.' I highly doubt disturbing a daydreaming shepherd would help the nation.' She grinned sheepishly.

"Ahh," Kurapika said, lowering his head even more to hide the creeping heat on his pale face.

"I guess not."

"Ha, no need to be shy, Kurapika," Saran said. "There is nothing to worry of." She looked down to Vas. "Is he your shepherd dog?"

"Vassilus, or Vas," Kurapika said, and immediately Vas' ears perked up with the sound of his name. "Yes, he is my shepherd dog."

"My, my," Saran said, smoothing Vas' silver coat. Vas flinched nervously at the sudden touch, but Kurapika held his head to prevent any 'accidents.' "What a wonderful breed you have here, Kurapika. Is he husky?"

Kurapika smiled. The question always comes up like that, and he always watched the funny reactions. "Well, if my assumptions arSarane correct, he would be half husky." He paused for a few to add effect. "Half husky, half wolf. Perfect breed."

Saran could only gawk unceremoniously. But quickly she retrieved her composure that lay scattered like broken glass in the floor. She just smiled and said, "My. How was that of, may I ask?"

"I do not know myself," Kurapika said. "It's a guess. We have a bitch named Ulaan and she's… close to an alpha male, if I guess right."

"So this Vas of yours…" Saran said, tracing the lines in the wolf heirarchy, "Can become alpha male?"

Kurapika shook his head. "Highly doubt that. Wolves pick one of their kind, not half-breeds."

This time, it was Saran's turn to smile. "The wolves have changed, you know?"

* * *

"Father."

"Princess… ahh, you have brought him. Welcome."

"You have called for me, Emperor?" Kurapika said, the words forced out of his mouth.

"Ahh, such a fine young man." The emperor signaled the doors be opened. "Sarantsartsral, you are now dismissed. I shall call on you soon."

"If that's what my father wishes," Saran said, and stepped out of the giant hall.

When the doors were closed, the emperor finally started talking. "Kurapika."

"Emperor."

"Straightforward young man, hmm. Your parents came to me a few days ago…"

"Emperor, sorry to be so straightfowardly rude, but if it is about me being sent to the city, I would like to decline."

The emperor looked at him with curious eyes. "May I ask why you decline, lad? Some other

children would kill for such an opportunity."

Kurapika thought. Yes, some children would really kill for the opportunity, because rarely do the parents actually allow the children to school. Each family's only manpower would be the members. Only the rich ones have helpers, their own private shepherds. It would be extra work – and payments to pay – if they send the children to school. Besides, schooling is not available around those parts because it was in the far outskirts. The city is on the other edge of the country. He sighed. "Well, sire, excuse me of the rudeness once more, but I do not wish schooling…" he started. "I have no proper excuse for this matter. I have just more important matters at hand…" he said. "Maybe my family comes before me."

The emperor smiled grandly. "Aah, a very talented young lad, with consciences greater than any else. Very worthy."

Kurapika cocked his head to a side, confused. "What… do you mean, emperor?"

The emperor suddenly had to smother a laugh, which made Kurapika even more confused. Irritation clouded his visage, but he wouldn't show it to the emperor so down-right forward.

"Emperor?"

"Oh, forgive me," the emperor said, chuckling on the remaining bits of his laughter."I just thought you looked so adorably _cute _with your head on the side. Almost like a doll. You know, you resemble Sarantsartsral so good."

Kurapika swallowed his complaints, and just replied with a nod. But inside, he was close to shuddering. He felt it rising from his spine. Wouldn't it be _nerving _if you heard the _emperor _of your nation, saying how _feminine-looking _you would be? He was irritated, he's had enough of that his life. But it was the emperor, what could he do. But he felt… abused, in a way. "Back to the topic, emperor..." he said, feeling stiff. "What did you mean about being worthy? Me?"

The emperor looked at him, finally, with a serious, straight face. "We will send a tutor to your home to … _engage _you in studies at least once a week. It's for free… and sponsored by me, and Sarantsarsral."

"Tutor?" Kurapika looked honestly shocked. "Sir, you must not understand …"

"No, no, it is fairly right," the emperor said. "We will send you back on carriage… with

Sarantsartsral."

Kurapika's mouth gaped open to complain, but then he snapped them shut. _Emperor,_ he made a mental note to himself. _Must not deny. _"Yes."

He walked out the giant doors to see Sarantsartsral leaning by it, listening quietly.

* * *

In the trip back to his home, Saran was edging uncomfortably in the seat across of him. _Father's order, _she said, when she rode in the carriage with him. Kurapika was humming a lullaby his mother taught him, though badly out of tune. Vas was whimpering, apparently he was hungry. Kurapika took candies from his pocket, and unwrapped one to put in Vas' mouth. He unwrapped another to put in his mouth. Then, looking up at Saran, he handed the last candy. She smiled and shook her head. But she was still looking uncomfortable.

Kurapika hummed noncommittally once more and put the candy and the empty wrappers back into his pocket. He waited, hoping that Saran was going to say something else, initiate new conversation.

Finally, after awkward silence, Kurapika spoke again just as he was giving the ball of candy a roll in his tongue. He said quietly, "I don't know what has gotten into Emperor Yujii this time."

He looked at Vas and smoothed the fur on his back. "Apparently something had his mind… upturned."

"Apparently," Saran said. "He might as well be still into his mourning stage. Trying to get over the loss."

Kurapika stared wide-eyed at Saran. He couldn't believe how she could actually talk about it that… _bluntly. _She _was _talking about her own mother, who had died a month ago with scarlet fever. It was too abrupt, people didn't notice until it was the end. The king just said, "Marra has died," closed the royal curtains, and fasted for seven whole days (as was the custom).

Yet here she was, his royal daughter, talking about the death of her mother without any thought.

Saran noticed the sudden thoughtful look in Kurapika's face, and started to explain to him. "We were never close," she said, tucking a lost lock of her hair behind her ear. "We never were. It was father who pressed us together. But when he cracked up, realized the problem under a slurry moonlit night, mother was the one to suffer. I didn't mind. That's when she refused eating, and when she did, got sick of it. That's what the butlers say, anyway."

"'Cracked up?'" Kurapika asked, confused. "May you clarify on that, if it isn't too personal for the princess?"

"Not at all," Saran said. "Well, father was off drinking royal wine with one of his fellows – I believe it was his brother's cousin's cousin – when that guy said, 'You, Yujii, are a loyal puppy. Aren't you becoming too soft? You're a mere toy to the mistress, playing around with you until she gets tired. The princess is just a brat.' I heard from outside the door, I was going to my room. I peeped in the room to see them half-naked, sprawled on the couch. Bellies protruding everywhere, too. Anyway, the room stunk of alcohol, and there was probably fifteen bottles on the couch, table, floor – everywhere. Then, my father answered groggily, 'Don't you underestimate me, Askaar. I have my own set of fine concubines. You'll see, you will. Call on my vizier and you will know them. There are twenty, twenty little chicklets brooding in the nest. Marra is not playing with me… I am playing with her.' Then, the two rolled around in chorused laughter. Of course I told Mom this, curious out of her reaction, not really for her own sake. She stared at me dumbfoundedly, but when we did as the vizier, he produced twenty fine ladies of all races you will ever think off." Saran chuckled. "That perverted old man, they were all underage, but fully paid as double as the vizier's own salary."

Kurapika gawked. The princess was actually revealing to him one of the most _royal _scandals ever to erupt in their kingdom. If the information leaked out, everyone would be mad at the emperor and there's a chance of the people running to the castle to try to overthrow…

"Oh, well, Mom sent all of them out of the castle, each with their skirts bumbled up with gold," Saran continued. "Mom told them to 'Get away and never return,' but 'Leave with these royal gifts of gold from the emperor.'" Saran grinned. "We told them that Father 'had fun.'" She laughed. "Well, those prostitutes believed and tying up their own garments in their bags, moved out of the kingdom. Father started acting strangely, even jittery. He kept on asking his vizier for 'those harlots.' But none of them returned! They've all been princesses in their own royal nations. What a life," Saran smiled. "But anyway, realizing that Father won't really stop his endless search for those girls, Mother started to torture himself. Father prepared royal banquets and all for her – knowing that when she dies, a part of the kingdom will be gone from him, to be offered back to her parents – to make sure she'll stay healthy. In the end, all people departed with full stomachs, except her. She started to turn pale. Bags hung under her blue eyes. She started to turn thinner, thinner, thinner. Until she was bedridden. She told me, 'Be strong for your father.' I didn't know what that meant, and still didn't know." Saran looked up at Kurapika. "But father told me to be strong… for someone special."

Kurapika looked at her dumbfoundedly. "You mean him?"

Saran just smiled a tender smile at him and looked out the carriage window. "Someone else."

Not one of them dared to talk after that.

* * *

"So the emperor _is _giving _you_ royal tutor?"

"Yes," Kurapika said, for the umpteenth time that night. His parents were so excited to have their son studying. "And I will study with the Saran."

"Saran…" his father thought. "You mean Sarantsartsral-hime-chan?" he clarified. Kurapika nodded. "Boy, you must have respect. Call her with honorifics."

Kurapika frowned. "But she told me to call her Saran."

"You've met?" his mother asked. Kurapika nodded. "She was the one to fetch me from the grazing fields."

"And the tutor begins?"

"When the emperor sends so," Kurapika said, standing up from his position in the seat. "May I excuse myself? I feel tired…"

"You are excused, Kurapika," his mother said, and stood to give him a goodnight kiss. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Kurapika said, and closed the door to his room.

* * *

Kurapika lay on his bed – the first time he'd actually sleep in it this week – staring at the moonlight that peered through the hole in the wall that would barely be classified as window. The stars were bright that night, and the moon was wearing a pallid glow beside them. The wind blew in soft whispers, making his makeshift curtain flutter.

He couldn't sleep, either. It had been four hours since he had excused himself from the table. Four hours had he been disturbed by his conscience. It irritated him, irked him. Something was bugging him. But he didn't know. Biting at the edge of his mind.

_Oh for God's sake, _he thought, finally standing up. _I'm a sleep-lacking twelve-year-old. Would someone let me sleep. _He forced his eyes to look outside, to the serene, quiet surroundings. The view he had was an empty, grassy field, with the long, ghostly road at the far left, leading to nowhere, and a tree that cast a scary shade by the road. Otherwise, it was just plain field.

He whistled silently to an old friend, and in the room came Vas. Slobbering and all, but sleep lingered in his golden eyes. He stood there, as excited as a monkey for five seconds, staring at Kurapika, who refused to give any reaction. Then, like shut off, he slumped on the bed, curling up like a ball as was his habit. In a few seconds, he was asleep.

Kurapika laughed at his friend. He patted the dog's head, and the ears flattened onto it. Kurapika leaned on the dog and made himself comfotable lying on the dog's furry back. He could imagine a serene plain. Light blue skies, fresh green grass, lush with the morning dew. The sun a bright round ball bringing life to the inhabitants of the planet earth.

Tranquility.

A piece of his grandfather's world flashed in his eyes before he finally fell into sleep.

* * *

"Mother!"

"Aww, please, Pika. Wear this." She handed a tunic of blue and gold to the young boy. "It's the first day of tutor."

"And just another day of sheparding," he said, shrugging off the tunic to stay back in his white shirt. "I swear, mother, those will just get stained."

The edge of his mother's lips twitched. "Oh, boy, dear. You just plan on playing with Vas," she said, stabbing a finger in his direction.

"Oh yes I do," Kurapika said. "Mother, I highly doubt the princess would actually _care _if I dressed up in gold than if I wear just this – as I've worn yesterday to the _Emperor's hall. _I doubt it would actually make a difference." He whistled to Vas. "I will tutor when I will. Tunics won't actually make a difference right?"

His mother frowned. Her son had beaten her in her own game. "Well, I guess you're right." She put the tunic on his bed. "But if you do want…"

"No, and nothing will change my mind, mother," he said, ending their argument. "Father, I will go out to the fields now!" He said, before finally stepping out of their cottage to go to the sheep. He whistled to Vas and Vas followed obediently the order of the day – the same as the rest of the days – to send the sheep to the grazing field.

When they reached the grazing field, Kurapika was surprised to find the princess sitting by herself on a rock, twiddling with her hair which hung to her waist when untied. She wore simple clothes today – a long, mildly-frilly red skirt that reached to below her knee, and a white cotton blouse. "Aah, Pika-chan, you're here," she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And when did you learn of my pet name? Only mother – and unusually father – uses that weird name on me."

"Really now?" Saran smiled at him. "All the children I asked called you 'Pika-chan'." She giggled.

Kurapika frowned pettily. "Backstabbers."

"Not really," Saran said. She looked at the sheep. "This is actually the first time I've went out of the castle on my own. And I've never dressed this plainly anywhere, so no one really recognized me. I guess they'd have called you Kurapika-nii-san when I dressed up as princess."

"Hmp," Kurapika said. Excuses, excuses. But he'll have to get used to that. "But what brings you here, Saran?"

Saran smiled. Kurapika was finally unhesitant to call her Saran. "Tutor."

"Tutor?" Kurapika asked, genuinely surprised. "Are you serious it begins now?"

"No, silly," Saran said, giggling. "I came ahead of time. We were supposed to study in your house. Tutor's coming there. When you're done with your _adorable _flock," she teased him. "Oh, is that a lamb over there?"

Kurapika nodded, and lifted the lamb to give the princess. "There you go. Did you know that I've probably named every single one of them, and know them by those features in their faces? It's pretty dull out here in the day, especially since there aren't much predators, so I end up naming them all." The princess was stroking the lamb's head. "That's Sakura."

"Sakura?" she asked, and he nodded. "What an outlandish name. Sorta." She smiled. "But I've heard of it. _Sakura, sakura, bring your cherry blossoms, Sakura._"

Kurapika nodded. "I've read that too."

"Ohh? You have? Is our smarty-pants trying to outwit me?" she teased.

"Not really," Kurapika said, scratching the non-existent itch atop his head. "I was just stating."

"Mmm…" she thought, burying her face in the white fleece of the lamb. "_Sakura, sakura, bring your cherry blossoms, Sakura."_

Kurapika looked up at the sky, as was his habit. "_Bring us today the breeze of your fragrance, Bring us today the breeze of tranquility."_

Saran looked up at Kurapika, who seemed to be thoughtful. She continued the song. "_Bring us back to the olden days, bring us back to the past. Bring back to us the link to our brothers."_

Kurapika looked at Saran. "The song ends there, no?"

Saran nodded. "That's the farthest as I know."

Kurapika looked back up at the blue sky, white clouds looking like sheep flying in the sky. "This might sound mellow, but… who do you think are those brothers?"

Saran smiled, looking up at the flying sheep. "Ahh, Kurapika. You will learn, too. You will."

* * *

"Saran, Saran we're going," Kurapika said, shaking the sleeping girl. She peeled her eyes open. The sun was a scarlet-gold, bouncing off Kurapika's hair.

"Mou… is it late already?"

"The sun will set in half an hour," Kurapika said, helping her up. He whistled to Vas, and soon the sheep were on the move. "I can't believe you'd do that."

Saran looked at him innocently. "Do what?"

"I mean, talking to me a moment, then the next you'd be off in La-la-land. That something I couldn't have done." He smired.

Saran just shrugged her shoulders. "You know, since I can't kill you yet, I'll just take that as a bashful compliment. As a princess, when I take a compliment, the reply is, 'Why, thank you.' So there." She grinned.

Kurapika rolled her eyes. _Girl tenacity or what?_

"Let's get going, Pika-chan," she said, now ahead of Kurapika, tugging on his sleeves. "Tutor must be in your house now." She grinned wider. "I bet, he'd be asking your parents embarrassing things about your mental and emotional health."

"WHA~AT?" Kurapika shouted, and then walked a beat faster than before. Saran grinned. He actually _fell for that?_

The sun, now cooling down, beat on both their face, smiling and full of fun.

Oblivious to the changes in store for them.

* * *

"Have you located them?"

"No, not yet, Danchou. Almost."

"Be sure to have that ready in a few days."

"Hai."

* * *

"So this _gravity _thing pulls everything to earth?" Kurapia asked.

"Yes," the tutor, named Kohei, said. "Just like this." He took his pen and dropped it on the floor. "It is gravity that pulls it down, back to the ground."

"Gravity has power to pull everything – trees, mountains, grass, humans, animals – to the ground, so you've said. But what about birds? They fly. What about kites? They rise from the ground."

Kohei smiled. "There we go. They resist the gravity, and puts effort to fight it, if they want to stay inborn, anyway."

Now Kurapika was _really _confused. To a province-boy, this would be too much information – Actually, the beeper was already ringing in his head. TOO MUCH INFORMATION ALERT! TOO MUCH INFORMATION ALERT! He thought his brain would explode! He was too dizzy and was having a headache with these information. "I agree that birds can put effort, because they're living beings, but how do kites do it?"

"Because it is the wind force that pulls them high," Kohei said.

Kurapika sighed. _First it's gravity, then effort, now wind force? _He wanted to bang his head into the wall, make more space for the information and details to enter in. His head felt like wet, mushy mud. _I'll never get the hang of this tutoring stuff_. He scratched his head, showing definite confusion and ununderstanding. Kohei and Saran just laughed at him.

"Don't worry, Pika-chan," Saran said before she left. "You will learn, too. You will."

* * *

**A/N: **Bam. xD I wanted to reach 10,000 words for my first chapter but I realized the details would be stretched and there wouldn't be much more for the first two chapters, the supposedly introductory ones. I just wanted to cut it there. It's like, CLIFFHANGER FEVER. Lol.

Anyway. Initial images of what the first six thousand words described? What do you think of his parents? Or Saran? Or himself? What is his relation to the wolves? _What does Saran know?_

Does the first chapter even make sense? _

Oh well. I'll try to explain better the next chapter. As for the names, I picked them up from the internet. Here's how you read two of the names mentioned... and some explanations, too.

Ulaan – **oo**ps** lu**mber** un**til

Ounaboura – **Oh no**thing** bow ra**

Naranbataar, Narantuyaa – Mongolian-origin names I have forgotten the definition.

Sarantsartsral – Mongolian, meaning something with moonlight.

There we go. xD The others were completely randomified. The first thing that came to mind. =] Six thousand words feels like an accomplishment. I hope I did good.

Til next chapter. Ja ne!


	3. Elegy of the spirits

**A/N: **Shorter than promised. Gomen-nee~~! It's revolving in only a short event so I couldn't expand it much. I think it's too descriptive... and too deep. Sorry for repetitive usage of terms and ideas. Probably did five versions of this thing. Tried to work hard.

Will end at this today. Maybe another week or so before I can update. :| I still have ALH.

**Disclaimer: **Kurapika and Kuroro (who is a minor cameo in this chapter) is owned by Yoshihiro Togashi. I own the rest, I suppose.

Original word count: 4,567

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**~Elegy of the Spirits~**

_

* * *

But even still, the memories will refuse to fade._

The fire had killed off all the sounds of remaining life, and the only think you would hear is the crisp crackling of the logs and wood that hat surrendered to it. People lay dead everywhere, staining the grass with their blood. The sight was so gruesome; no one would be able to imagine what happened there. It was like an image from the human's very fictitious, imaginative mind. But it was a terrifying image, one any man would not find fit to reach a thought in his or her mind.

From a distance, a man with a black fluttering cape snapped a book shut, and soon it completely disappeared from his hand. He took a deep breath, a final letting go. He pocketed his hands and made his way downhill, leaving the fire, the corpses, the… everything.

The fire consumed everything, even itself.

Nothing remained of the once powerful nation.

_

* * *

What… happened here?_

When Kurapika peeked from between the bushes on top of the hill, the last he caught of a human would be the man's disappearing fluttering cape. He wanted to run, pounce on the man and ask what happened, but his feet felt glued to the ground.

The last memory he had, before running through the bushes, was the order of Sarantsartsral to him, while he was lounging around by a tree. (It was one of those things Saran influenced him in doing – laze around doing nothing.)

"_Kurapika!"  
"Saran?"  
"Do me a hu~uge favor?" she asked.  
"Depends."  
"Pick me some wild berries," – a pause – "A hundred of them, and only the ripest."  
"Huh? Why me?"  
"Do I have to send you flying to the mountain?" she said, but her voice faltered at the end, betraying her worry.  
To Kurapika, though, it sounded like a do-it-or-I'll-cry. "No, Saran," he said, but did not move until he was pushed._

He was even joyous to be asked to do something. He still had his previous conscience, and he thought lying around doing nothing was completely unproductive and bad. Besides, he had to respond because Saran was forcing him to. He was pushed…no, shoved, to the bushes. It didn't feel right, like there was something hidden behind Saran's words. It felt fishy for him. Nevertheless, not minding to call on Vas, his buddy, he went up to the mountain straight to what he and Saran called the 'Harvest Garden.'

The Harvest Garden was a beautiful, virgin, untouched piece of ground in the forest. It was a small, 100-meter-square patch of flat land. It had beautiful, bountiful bushes of berries around it. Flowers grew between the bushes. Grass greener than anywhere grew there, around a lake where there were two fishes swam side-by-side. Low trees bordered the hangout place for the two, giving just sufficient shade. Everything was beautiful.

He headed to the bushes of berries –a few steps away – and stared at them hungrily. They were beautifully purple, fresh and ripe. Just in season. He started to wonder at what Saran would use with those.

Of a _hundred _of it.

After whispering a quick prayer to the goddess of harvest, he started by plucking one and popping it in his mouth. It was still sour. He went to the next shrub and tasted it – this time it was bitter. He knew how meticulous Saran was when it comes to taste, and she was only asking one hundred perfect, round, ripe berries. _Only. _Of course, if he wanted to wake up alive tomorrow, he had to do it.

Even the strongest of all soldiers would melt into jelly when they experience her tongue lashings.

_Perfection! _The sound of his mind rang him out of his reflections. He stared at the shrub with delicious clumps of round, purple berries. There were around fifteen clumps before him, each clump having around nine berries each. He did the mental math and concluded that the berries were enough. He wondered what Saran would do with those sweet treats. He licked his lips in anticipation. Saran was a great cook, and with great ingredients… He started to greedily collect the clumps into his shirt, bundling them up.

He was humming happily, conjuring up images and tastes of a sweet, freshly baked berry pie that filled the air with its enticing aroma. He got the berries and took one drink from the lake before finally excitedly getting ready to dash back home to return.

But now, where was he to return to? As he looked down, the palace has been reduced to ashes. The houses are nothing but burnt wood. The grass was tainted red. Corpses were strewn everywhere. The remains of the fire burnt what was left to. It was frightening. It frightened him.

He ran down the hill, through the path that led back to the village. He didn't really understand _why _he ran, he just did. He ran, ran, and ran; he couldn't even see, for his eyes were cloudy with tears. There was a pain in his heart he didn't quite understand, a pain he couldn't quite name. But it was there, and it felt like it would be there forever. It glued to his sanity, to his emotions. It choked him. It suffocated him. But still, it stayed there.

"Father… mother…" he called, wishing for the little chance of them being alive. "Saran…" He wasn't looking, he wasn't paying attention. He tripped and fell face first to the ground.

That's when he couldn't stop it anymore, and the tears flooded out, flushing out of his eyes. Loss was felt between his sad, dark eyes. He started to his the ground with his fist. "Why?" His cries became shouts of anger. Of rage. He knew, somehow, that this was one of the reasons why Saran sent him off to find the berries. Why her tone betrayed all her fear and worry. But why him? And why only him?

When he looked up, he felt like everything had cleared out. He saw, from a distance away, the bodies he had aimed to find… to weep upon. He finally spotted the two bodies of the two most important people in his life. He stood up, stumbling on his own feet. He ran across the tiny remains of the fire, jumping to skip on the people. How it pained him, how each face he could put a name on. Everyone looked familiar, and every time he saw, he could feel like he was breaking. He wanted to close his eyes to prevent himself from seeing. He didn't want to…

"Papa!" his lost calls echoed beyond the mountains that bordered their territory. "Mama!"

He neared the two bodies that looked so familiar to him, the two bodies of the most important persons in his life. "Papa… mama…" He shuffled to them, and his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. His father was dead. His mother was dead. His family was dead. His hands went across his parents' bodies to hug them, and he bathed in their warm blood. He wiped his teary eyes and dirty face with his bloody hands. Everybody who made life 'life,' was now dead. Even Saran was…

Saran?

He walked the entire village; painfully putting names on every dead face he'd be able to stumble upon. The tears that had welled up started to break through. A warm drop slid from his eyes down his cheek, slowly, painfully. It cleaned the blood he had wiped on his face upon hugging his parent's bodies.

His eyes, even though cloudy, continued to search for a sign of his missing friend. His mind flashed scenes of joy – playing in the meadow, talking about life, sky gazing – but none felt real, and he thought all those memories would be fictional thoughts his mind made up for him and his sanity. Why did he think so? Because all he could see was bloody gore scattered everywhere, with no sign of life.

He couldn't even find Vas.

By then he had walked halfway the village, and thunder rolled mightily above him. But today, it didn't spook him like before. It brought his spirit and senses back to earth. It pulled him back to the ground. He was thankful, for he was getting lost in his own dark nightmare.

The trees swayed in a choreographed dance in the beat of the world's natural song. The wind whispered with it, its cool freshness beating upon his face. The wind scattered flowers, their fragrance mingling with the breeze.

He knew the ghosts of this part of his past will haunt him forever; an unending elegy of the ghosts.

The wind whipped more ferociously now, and the gust whipped up the scattered leaves on the ground. The first drops of rain fell on the blood-soaked earthen floor. It wet his skin, his hair, and his clothes. The rain fell not only on his body but also on his soul.

He looked up at the sky and his eyes were wet by tears from the heavens that mirrored his own. The dark heavy hue of the clouds was reflected by his own cloudy ones. His aquamarine eyes were gray as the sky that hung above him ungratefully.

By then, he had walked halfway the village, and thunder rolled mightily above him. But today it didn't spook him like before. It brought his spirit and senses back to earth. It pulled him back to the ground. He was thankful, for he was getting lost in his own nightmare.

The trees swayed in a choreographed dance in the beat of the world's natural song. The wind whispered and hummed with it, its cool freshness beating upon his face. The wind scattered flowers, their fragrance mingling with the gentle breeze.

He knew the ghosts of this part of his past will haunt him forever; an unending elegy of the spirits. Spirits of the people he had grown up with. Spirits of the people he loved. Spirits of the only people he knew. Their memories would disturb him forever. It would stay in his dreams, in his life. It would block his view of the sun in his future.

The leaves whipped more ferociously now, and the wind whipped up the scattered leaves on the ground. The first drops of rain fell on the blood-soaked earthen floor. It wet his skin, his hair, and his clothes. The rain fell not only on his body, but also on his soul. His hair stood in ends out of fear and shock – he wasn't ready for this.

He walked north in a pace that was dead and zombie-like. He wasn't in a rush; he wasn't in any problem at all. But never did he stumble upon his friend's body.

A part of him continued to hope she was alright.

* * *

The boy, cold, hungry, and tired, slumped on what remained of his house's burnt wall, putting ashes on his star-white shirt. The rain continued to fall on him, preventing him from shouting angrily at no one in particular. The rain breeze sent wafts of his mother's perfume into his nose. It killed him slowly, painfully; it tortured him.

But still, he wanted it to last. It felt like his mother's last goodbye to him.

'Goodbye…'

As the rain fell, a fog, thick and suffocating, wrapped the rain-soaked village. But to Kurapika, it felt just like another fog – his mind and body was too numb to think. He hugged his knees tighter and drained himself in his tears. The fog merely dampened his soul even more. Well, it wasn't like the sun would brighten him up, no?

"Kuruta." A voice like the soft melody of the seas awoke him from his death-like trance. He was reminded of Saran, and his heart felt like breaking.

"What?" he answered, weakly. He didn't want to engage in any conversation with anyone, for his head and heart and his entire being felt so heavy. He was far too miserable to repair.

The voice sighed, sounding more to Saran in his ears. He was tempted to look up to check if it was really _her _that came to visit him. If it was, he wouldn't mind. But the fetal position felt comfy to him at the moment, so he didn't budge. "Kurapika," the voice said, sounding tender. "I want to talk to you."

"You already are," he groaned lightly. "What do you want, anyway?" He was trying to keep monotone, but he was starting to tremble.

A cold finger traced his chin as it lifted his head gently. He came face-to-face with a beautiful creature – _Second only to Saran, _his mind added – that had long, billowing tresses of silver that dangled to her knee. He wore an off-the-shoulder white dress that almost took on the same color of her very pale skin. She had the high collarbones of a fine, cultured princess. But her expression was cold and uncaring – none of the happy smiles Kurapika was hoping to see. "Will you listen to me now?" the girl asked, voice lingering from calm to threatening. It was obvious she was getting irritated, but she kept control.

"I don't have a choice now, do I?" Kurapika sighed. The tenacity of the spirit-girl-like-creature irked him. "But first, who are you? ..._What _are you? And… what do you want from me?" He crossed his arms across his chest to add the effect.

The spirit smiled at him, but in a way he found uncomfortable. "Ahh, Guardian. You'll know soon enough." She paused a while, staring at him with glistening amber eyes. "I can tell you one, though – I am a spirit wolf, and your fates are interlocked with mine." She breathed, preparing to begin her lengthy explanation. "I am the reincarnation, of the one who fights for justice. I am the one you leave home to search for, yet I am the one you come home to. I am the one who keeps you going. I am. I am intuition. I am open-mindedness, I am loyal heart."

She breathed again, giving time for Kurapika to take in what she just said. He was staring at her with unnervingly empty eyes. Ignoring it, she continued. "I am the one who lives in the future, who comes back to lead you there. I'm the one who cares for you day and night, but you don't care." She smiled sadly, memories flooding her. "But where do you find me? You haven't seen me, now, have you, Kuruta? But I have always been there. This is the first time, isn't it? But well, where was I, you ask? I am everywhere. I am your mother. I am your cousin. I am the trees. I am the forest. I am nature. I am Vas. I… am Saran." Her empty eyes looked up at Kurapika to watch his reaction.

Kurapika couldn't help but gasp. He may not understand what she meant between the lines, but upon the mention of Saran, his heart stopped. _Could it be…? _

"I've been watching you," the spirit said, voice sounding a little more solemn that earlier, "ever since you were born. Believe me." The spirit paused. "My arrival has marked the change that will start to happen in your life, which had interlocked with us."

Kurapika sighed, and buried his head back between his knees. "I don't want to," he hissed, but it was more of a sob. "Leave me alone." _I just want to be back to the life I had before… _Tears started to fall again.

The spirit's mouth gaped wide open at him. "Fool!" It cursed angrily. "Why aren't you grateful? Ahh, the forest shall be your new home, and the wolves be thy guardians. Don't be of spite. You should be proud of this, even. Not everybody is given this gift. But no words change the fate of one." The spirit sighed again, the nth time the past few minutes they've been talking. "Listen to me, Kuruta. You must know how to live with the wolves, your ancestors. You must learn how to be with them. You were born to. They will be your family. They will adopt you; they will be your saviors. They will be your new kinsmen."

With that, the spirit disappeared into thin air.

* * *

Kurapika wandered off, staring emptily at his soil-dirty hands. Tears washed longingly on his face, and the rain washed them over, too. He was wet head to toe, and he was shivering cold inside and outside.

The forest was no knew thing to him; it was his second home. Every tree had a distinction in his eyes; there was a map of him implanted in his mind. He knew the place better than Saran, and he never got lost. But that day, he felt utterly misplaced and confused, like a lost puppy searching for its home. Saran, who had served as an elder sister and a playmate, was no longer there to give him the comfort and security he was used to. He was whimpering, controlled sobs escaping from his dry mouth. His throat felt dead.

He was walking aimlessly across his forest home, stumbling on roots of trees, wounding himself with the thorns that lay on the forest floor. "Saran…" he uttered. "Mother, Father…" his voice was silent and rattling like a snake's. He was shivering, shuddering. He felt insecure. Safety was no longer a privilege to him. It was lost to him.

Kurapika wandered off aimlessly, staring emptily at his soil-dirty hands. The tears that have fallen from his eyes were washed over by the rain. He was as wet as a chick that has just cracked from its egg, and he was shivering cold inside and outside. He tried to warm his body by rubbing his hands on his forearms, but his heart was as cold as ice, and a sense-numbing feel was enveloping his mind.

He felt weak.

He felt useless.

The forest was nothing new to him – it was his second home, a secret haven he can run off to. Every tree had a special distinction that differentiated them from the rest. A map of the forest was implanted in his mind. He knew the place better than Saran, and never did he get lost in his entire existence.

But that day, it was the opposite. Every tree looked just the same as the one he passed. He felt like he was running in circles. He felt like a misplaced puppy trying to find its way back home – except that he didn't have anywhere to return to now. Saran, who had served as an elder sister, tutor, and playmate, was no longer there to give him the comfort and security he was showered in, before. He was whimpering, controlling the sobs that had managed to escape out of his dry mouth. His throat felt dead.

He was walking in no direction across his forest home, stumbling on the giant roots of the trees that sprouted from the ground. The thorns that lay scattered on the floor wounded him and tore his clothes. "Saran…" his tiny plea of help finally came out. "Mother, Father…" his voice was as silent and as rattled as a snake. He was shivering, shuddering. He felt insecure, and starting that day, Security was no longer a privilege to him. It was indefinitely lost to him.

A haunting song of a wolf howl pierced the night air. It was mournful, it was sad, sorrowful. It sliced the tranquil surroundings. His face showed no features of surprise, but inside, he was a little taken off guard. It eve reminded him of a few of the spirit's words that continued to scare him. "The forest will be your new home, and the wolves by thy guardians." He was having a headache understanding what the spirit told him. He only grasped her frequent usage of the word 'guardian.' But still he did not grasp the hidden meaning, because at that moment he didn't care. He was more focused in getting to his aimed goal, where he wanted to go.

Wherever that may be.

The pathless young boy wandered without a word in the forest. He didn't care about what the spirit meant, unknowing how important it was, how it could change his life.

He was clueless.

He tripped on the muddy ground, barely catching himself with his hands. He sat up and leaned on a trunk of a giant Sierra redwood tree that stood at maybe a hundred feet tall. He felt like he was shrinking.

His eyes drooped slightly, and his mind attacked him with thoughts, making him even drowsier. "The forest shall be your new home," he recited, "and the wolves be thy guardians."

He sighed. It didn't make sense to him.

_What do the wolves have to do with this?_

_What do they want from me?_

* * *

When he woke up, the sun was beating on him. It was bright and sunny, and the sky was a happy shade of blue, mirroring his own. The clouds were white sheep dancing on a blue field. He blinked three times to get used to the light and started to stand up. He dusted his shirt – which was still wet – and started to look around. He saw himself in the middle of the forest – in an area he couldn't seem to familiarize with. He walked, trying to find a spot he would be able to mark in his mind's map so he would be able to locate himself.

But no matter where he went, everything seemed lost. The surroundings were unfamiliar to him. So he picked on a random path and started to walk through it.

Suddenly, his stomach grumbled, and his face contorted with the pain that came with his hungry stomach's pangs. He clutched his stomach with his right arm, and started to maneuver his way through the unknown forest.

After a few minutes of walking, he stumbled across a rushing river. It was the only border to him to the other side where he saw trees with bountiful fruits. The river was around fifty meters across. And the current was blinding fast. If he tried to swim across, there's a 99% chance he'll just be washed away by the current. And die.

Dying. The thought tempted him for a while then, before he finally shook his head.

Walking by the bank of the river, he tried to find a nice spot where maybe, the two sides will be closer than the 50 meter gap. He noticed the sides were slanting, and were bound to be close to each other at some point. He trotted nearby, and his doubts were confirmed.

At this one little area, the river was only, say, five meters wide, and he thought, maybe, he would be able to jump. But he still wasn't sure. He didn't want to risk his life. He was a calculative person, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to let risks stand in his way. He believed in thoughts before actions, and he has always lived up to that belief.

He started back in the forest, making sure he took note of the direction where the river was. He found a little bamboo grove, with around only ten bamboos, and decided he'd maybe use that to cross the river. _But how am I supposed to pull this off the ground?_

As he was pondering on his present problem, he heard a bird song, soft, swift, and silent. It was sharp, and ordering. It lasted for only around five seconds. He was wondering what bird that was or so, because he couldn't familiarize himself with it.

Suddenly, he jumped up in surprise when he saw a beaver pass by and nibbled on one of the bamboos. When it managed to cut away the entire bark and sent the eight foot bamboo down the ground, it just scurried away. Kurapika's left eyebrow twitched, and he was amused. His heart felt warm suddenly, with the sudden new emotion to block his sadness and grief.

_Fate's play on human life, huh?_ He thought, and walked.

_So for my luck, _he said, and started to pick up the bamboo. He was used to carrying heavy things – Saran used to make him carry anything and everything. Carry Vas, carry the sheep, _Carry me, _were the usual orders of Saran when they were out playing in the meadow.

His face showed pain as his mind replayed a memory of him carrying Saran on his back while running around the meadow. She had her arms outstretched and she was shouting, "I'm a fairy! I'm the goddess of the world!"

He got the bamboo to the riverside. Going to the rear end of the bamboo, he started to push. Sweat trickled from his forehead to his eye, down his cheek, to his neck. It was easy to carry, but the energy was being drained out of his tired body.

He pushed the bamboo so that the other end touched the other side. When he was sure it was fine, he started to cross the river using the bamboo. Step, step, step. He did it slowly, and with every step he made sure he was balanced, and would be able to take one more step.

The current below the bamboo bridge rocked quickly. It scared him, maybe it would topple the entire thing altogether. He was no good at swimming. That was totally his alien field.

Suddenly, the water went up the bamboo and startled him.

He slipped.

_

* * *

What happened? _His mind was blurry and he was confused. He tapped the ground beside him and it was soft, comfortable. _Grass, maybe? _He thought. He didn't feel cold.

_Wait a minute. _His mind's engines started to gear up. _I fell in the water… Then why…?_ He sat up with his eyes still closed and started to rub his hurting head. He rubbed his eyes. He opened them slowly, and found himself on green grass, wearing new, clean, dry clothes. Even his hair was dry.

He panicked. Where was he? What happened? Who brought him to where he was? He didn't like being as clueless as this is, especially since it was _him _who was in the hands of… well, whoever it may be. He didn't trust much in his fate, no matter how much luck it had showered on him recently, if you evade counting the good things.

He didn't believe the wolf spirit, too. He couldn't. It was unbelievable. If he was born a thousand years back when his people still believed in animal spirits, maybe he would've given in to the spirit. Maybe he'd be tailing her.

He rubbed his eyes and his eyelids fluttered as he battled to open it. He kept blinking, too, to manage with the bright light. He was halfway through a shade of a tree. His upper half was on the shade, the other half under the cool, spring sun.

He turned his head up to see a girl. She was wearing a light pink skirt that stayed to her knee, and a brown blouse that matched up to the color of her hair. She had a pearl-white face almost like Saran, but this girl's looked more like marble. She had deep, dizzying indigo eyes that stared at him. She smiled at Kurapika.

"Why, hello."


End file.
